


Maybe Come On In

by Ningikuga



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall
Genre: Angry Sex, Bad Comics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ningikuga/pseuds/Ningikuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linksano is enraged about the mockery of science in Marville #4; Linkara tries to calm him down.  Because this is smut, sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Come On In

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://tgwtg-meme.livejournal.com/1329.html?thread=1452593#t1452593). Title from XTC's "We're All Light," which has a better understanding of biology and evolutionary science than Marville does.

Linksano paced down the short hallway, tugging at the hair above his ears with both hands. “How could a time capsule permit some of its occupants to undergo the effects of the passage of time and not others?” he mumbled under his breath. “After the first jump, none of them were natives of either the initius or the terminus, so that can’t be it.”

He padded back down the hallway, one hand still in his hair, the other fumbling in one pocket. “It can’t be whether they were native to the time period the capsule came from; that’s only true of one of them,” he muttered.

Pausing at the end of the hallway, he fished a dry-erase marker from his pocket. “Even if it had some way of isolating some of them from the chronotemporal field, there’s no way they have a large enough population in a few gallons of seawater for natural selection to act on,” he stated to no one in particular. “Certainly not for macroscopic life.”

Scribbling something illegible on a whiteboard hung over the back of the bathroom door, he sneered, “There’s no energy input. You can’t have an increase in the complexity of a system without an energy input. Is the time capsule itself supposed to be providing the energy of millions of years of sunlight and geothermal heat? How? Through what kind of power source?”

The jumble of words filled up the left half of the board and began a march down the right. “Even if there were some sort of energy providing heat and some substitute for enough light to drive photosynthesis for food, the evolutionary context in what is effectively a fishtank is _completely different_ from the one in Earth’s oceans!” Linksano screeched. “There’d be almost no selection pressure! Change would slow to a standstill, or organisms would evolve to defend only from the other lifeforms in the tank! They wouldn’t reflect the selection pressures of millions of other evolving species, plus changes in salinity, oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, and temperature!”

Around the corner, Harvey gestured abruptly at the ranting scientist. “He’s been like that all morning,” he complained. “Keeps filling up the whiteboard and erasing it, and now I don’t know whether or not we’re out of shampoo.”

Linkara shook his head. “I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “Just let me handle it. If you haven’t been there, it’s a little hard to understand.”

Harvey stuck his hands in his pockets and snorted. “If that’s the case, then I’m doubly glad it was you who reviewed that issue, and not the hologram,” he muttered as he tromped off.

“There’s no known timeline in all of hypertime in which an arthropoid creature evolves into a saurian vertebrate,” Linksano muttered as the second column of frantic notes ran off the edge of the whiteboard onto the bathroom door.

Linkara tiptoed around the corner into the hallway, quietly pushing the door to ’90’s Kid’s and Linksano’s shared room open with one knuckle as he crept down the hall. Good thing ‘90s Kid wasn’t home; he’d probably make things worse right now.

“Vast numbers of species in a variety of taxonomic categories not only attack and occasionally kill each other over territory or mating rights,” Linksano mumbled at the wall, “in many if not most species where males are significantly larger than females and are allowed to remain around nursing mothers, dominant males routinely commit infanticide on other males’ offspring, a practice nearly all human cultures find abhorrent.”

Linkara spread his hands out, reaching towards the madder-than-usual scientist. “It’s okay,” he said, in as low and soothing a voice as he could muster. “Yeah, it’s bad, but it’s only a comic book.”

“We have no reliable evidence that _Utahraptor_ hunted in packs,” Linksano said, still facing the whiteboard. “Given their body size, single-family groups seems far more plausible; given their brain size, if hadrosaurs can speak, they should also be able to do the same.”

“It’s pretty horriffic,” Linkara continued. “It’s my job to tackle these things, Linksano. You have far more important science to do. Let it go and let me handle it, okay?”

“If 100% of your neurons were active at the same time, you’d be having a seizure,” Linksano whimpered. The hand holding the marker twitched. “Lobe-finned fishes developed leg-like structures in order to better navigate in shallow, muddy, or plant-clogged waters.”

Creeping closer, Linkara assured him, “I know. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Exothermy and endothermy are determined by mitochondrial numbers and activity in individual cells,” Linksano sobbed. “Invertebrate endotherms are theoretically possible; I’ve run from them, knee-high mantis-folk on strange worlds far from here.”

“Please,” Linkara begged, “stop thinking about it. That’s not your department. There are so many other wonderful scientific things to ponder. It’s just ink and paper. It’s not worth the heartache.”

“The Chicxulub meteor impact would not have been visible from California,” Linksano hissed. “They might have seen a momentary streak, no more, until the shockwave.”

“Too bad the shockwave didn’t take out the capsule,” Linkara muttered.

“The combinatorics for DNA sequences require only four letters, so a specific human genome should actually take the million monkeys less time,” Linksano grated between gritted teeth. He leaned heavily against the bathroom door, his chest heaving.

Startled, Linkara mumbled, “Oh, crap, I didn’t even think about that one.”

Linksano’s head finally turned. “That’s because you’re not particularly good at math,” he growled. The marker sped past Linkara’s ear before he realized Linksano had thrown it; just as suddenly, the furious scientist tackled him.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU BURN THE DAMNED THING?!?” Linksano screamed, his face barely inches from Linkara’s. His hands made fists in Linkara’s lapels as he tried to drag him closer.

Linkara didn’t try to pull away; instead, he pivoted in place. “I’m sorry!” he yelped. “I couldn’t! I still had two issues left to go. I can’t burn a single issue of a series before the end; it would lose all dramatic tension for the rest of the reviews!”

Linksano yanked on Linkara’s jacket; now they were nose-to-nose. “ _Do I look like I care about dramatic tension?_ ” he sneered. “ _Burn them all, then! Every! Last! One!_ ”

Instead of replying, Linkara grabbed Linksano’s lapels and pitched over backwards through the open door into the bedroom. The two of them landed in a heap on the floor as Linkara’s hat rolled off.

“You should have lit it up like a meteor impact wildfire!” Linksano continued, his voice rising like bile. “You should have demonstrated an exothermic reaction on it! You should . . . you should have . . . .” Linksano looked down; Linkara had let go of his coat and had now slipped both hands inside it, curling around him in something like an embrace. “What are you doing?” he asked with a huff. “That’s not any wrestling hold I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not trying to wrestle you,” Linkara explained. “I’m trying to redirect all that energy in a more productive direction.” He grinned slyly.

Linksano cocked his head. “Like what?”

Linkara caught the door with one foot and pushed it closed behind them. “I mean, if an actual wrestling match will do it for you, I’m game,” he said, “but I’m thinking something a little less violent might work better.” He leaned up and nipped at Linksano’s ear.

Linksano was silent for a moment as his jaw dropped. “That’s going to be all kinds of complicated as far as our employer-employee relationship goes,” he cautioned.

Linkara shifted his hips under Linksano’s weight. “It doesn’t feel like either of us cares about that at the moment,” he purred. “Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry?”

“No,” Linksano said flatly, sitting up. “Although I was told once that my passion for science was intensely attractive. Are you really offering to make out with me, just to calm me down?”

“Yup,” Linkara agreed. “You want to burn it, I’m offering to light your fire instead. If you’re really not feeling it, we can fight it out instead, but _mmmph!_ ” He was interrupted by Linksano kissing him, hard.

“I can certainly think of worse things to do with an adrenaline rush,” Linksano giggled, stripping out of his trenchcoat. “Hold on one moment,” he muttered, tapping a button on his watch; the door made a clunking noise and glowed yellow for a split-second. “Wouldn’t want anyone walking in on us.”

“And here I thought it was ‘90s Kid locking the door,” Linkara laughed. He reached up and unbuttoned Linksano’s shirt, running his fingertips across the curve of his scientist’s belly.

“When I’m on the ship, it probably is,” Linksano allowed. “No one should go through that many socks in a month. I haven’t done this in . . . a very long time.”

Linkara’s hands went for Linksano’s fly, unbuttoning the black denim. “That’s okay,” he assured him, “it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“It involves a great number of skinned knees and swerving to avoid rude drivers?” Linksano tried to slip the jacket off of Linkara’s shoulders and found himself stymied by the carpet. “This is rougher sex you’re inviting me to than I imagined.” His grin spread into a wicked smile. “Not that I’m necessarily complaining.”

“Noted,” Linkara said as his eyebrows jumped. “You might have better luck with that if you let me up.”

Linksano frowned, nodded, and jumped to his feet, hauling Linkara up by the plaid shirt. “I was enjoying having the power positions reversed,” he mused, “but it will be hard to strip you properly in that position.” His goggles twinkled. “Actually,” he said, the usual smirk returning to his face, “why don’t you do it for me? Take that jacket off.”

Linkara hesitated for a second, then grinned back and pulled the jacket from his shoulders, posing with it halfway off and his hands perched on his hips. “Like this?” he asked, shaking his arms and letting the coat fall to the floor.

“Exactly.” Linksano stepped out of his jeans and reclined on the bunk that didn’t have a faded Transformers coverlet, letting his black shirt fall open over his atom-printed boxers. “Now the shirt, and the t-shirt with it.”

Linkara grabbed the bedpost, threw one leg around it, and peeled off the plaid shirt, playing a momentary game of peek-a-boo with it before tossing it behind him. He reached behind his head, grabbed the back collar of the charcoal tee, and attempted to yank it off in one motion; it was mostly successful, although it left his hair sticking up in odd directions.

Linksano suppressed a giggle at the hair static. “Very nice,” he crooned. “I might not have to destroy every copy of Marville in existence if you keep this up.”

“You can destroy every copy you want once I’m done with my reviews, for all I care,” Linkara admitted. “Just let me finish the series first. You wouldn’t believe the view numbers I’m getting on these.”

“Fine,” Linksano huffed. “Just get those pants off.”

Linkara unzipped his jeans and shimmied his hips, turning to face away from Linksano as he bent down to step out of them. He was rewarded with a gentle swat on the butt.

“Superman briefs,” Linksano chuckled. “Of course. Let’s see how super you are under those.”

Linkara stepped over to the bed. “Let me get this off of you first,” he suggested, tugging at the shoulders of Linksano’s shirt.

“If you insist.” Linksano wriggled his shoulders and slid his arms out of the sleeves, then tugged down the waistband of Linkara’s briefs. “Ah, very nice indeed,” he crooned, cupping Linkara’s ass in both hands.

“You too,” Linkara chided, reaching for Linksano’s boxers. Linksano obediently scooted over on the bed to let him peel those off; Linkara stole a kiss while he was at it, then pressed his lips to Linksano’s forehead.

“Mmm,” Linksano purred. “Now what - oh, _that_ , well, yes, fine!” He clutched at the bedspread as Linkara sank to his knees and did something topologically improbable with his tongue.

Linkara looked up just long enough to murmur, “Glad you like it,” before dropping down again, wrapping his arms around Linksano’s legs and his mouth around Linksano’s dick. 

Science, he was amazing! Linksano’s hand found the back of Linkara’s head of its own accord, guiding him with the gentlest of pressure, as Linkara’s tongue danced down nerve endings that had found no outlet other than empty holograms in far too long. His mouth was warm and his hands were doing interesting things of their own, stroking the insides of Linksano’s thighs.

“Please, Linkara,” Linksano gasped. “I - yes.”

He felt Linkara chuckle, then felt a hand curling around the base of his cock as Linkara worked the rest of it just a little deeper in his mouth, just a little faster, just a little harder. Linksano’s other hand curled in the bedspread as he groaned, “I’m - I’m getting close.”

“Good,” Linkara mumured, working Linksano with his hands for a moment. “Would you like to finish off this way, or something else? You seemed to be pretty happy with my ass a minute ago.”

“I’d nut before I even got in you,” Linksano admitted. “Actually, could you - I’ve never, but - I think I might - would you fuck me?”

Linkara took a long, shivering breath. “I’d love to,” he breathed. “I, um - I don’t have -”

“Look in the drawer next to the bed, underneath the box full of earplugs,” Linksano told him.

“Ah, okay.” Linkara removed a small bottle of lube, an extra rubber glove, and a foil packet from the drawer. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Well,” Linksano shrugged, “the whole point of this exercise was to fuck the rage out of me, right?”

“Yeah, but I expected to be on the receiving end,” Linkara admitted.

Linksano bit his lower lip. “Maybe next time?” he offered.

Linkara laughed aloud. “Not going to say no to that,” he replied, and tore open the packet. He rolled the condom down his length and squeezed out a gob of lube onto his fingers. “Missionary or doggie style?” he asked.

“I’d like to be able to see you,” Linksano admitted, “but I think missionary is tougher for, um, for ass-virgins.” He felt himself blushing on top of the arousal.

“Right,” Linkara sighed. “Bend over, then, and I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Linksano slid off the bed and leaned over, ass in the air and hands on the coverlet. Linkara’s gloved fingers probed him gently, first one, then two, slow and steady. To Linksano’s surprise, it didn’t hurt; if anything, he was just getting harder again.

Linkara scissored his fingers. “How are you doing?” he asked, laying his other hand on Linksano’s back.

“I think I’m ready,” Linksano replied.

“Let me know if you need me to slow down, okay?” Linkara murmured as he peeled off the glove and positioned himself between Linksano’s feet. “The idea is to replace an unpleasant experience with a happy one, after all.” He pushed in, achingly slowly.

Linksano forced himself to breathe, to process the sensations, to not just push back in an eager excess of horniness. The initial discomfort never resolved into pain, and when Linkara’s dick brushed up against a particular anatomical feature Linksano had only read about, even that fled against the lightning sparks of pleasure.

Linkara hissed. “You’re so tight,” he gasped. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.”

“You’re fine,” Linksano groaned back. “It’s better than I imagined; just fuck me!”

Linkara moved a little faster, picking up speed slowly as Linksano groaned in ecstasy and tried not to writhe too much. Linksano could feel Linkara breathing harder, could feel the tension in his legs as he sped up.

“Harder,” Linksano groaned. “Please, harder.”

“I don’t know how much harder I can go,” Linkara pleaded, but somehow he found an ounce of extra leverage. He bent forward, planted a love-bite on Linksano’s neck, and reached around to stroke his dick as he pounded into him.

“Oh, please,” Linksano wailed, clutching the covers with all his strength. “I’m -”

“Just a few more,” Linkara hissed back. “Wait for me.”

Linksano held on by sheer willpower as the atomic pile at the center of his nervous system teetered on the verge of meltdown. Linkara’s grip tightened, and he groaned wordlessly against the back of Linksano’s neck; Linksano keened back as he felt his cock leap in Linkara’s hands. The world turned into a wash of white fire whirling up his spine and through his pineal gland as he came.

Linkara nibbling on his ear brought Linksano back to the external world. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“I think so,” Linksano replied as Linkara withdrew and tossed the condom in the wastebasket. “At least, I’m willing to wait until you’ve finished the series before wreaking my ineffable vengeance upon it.” He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his own thundering heartbeat. “I have at least one new ethical issue to ponder in the meantime.” He glanced at the bedspread beneath him. “And a load of laundry to do.”

“Good,” Linkara laughed, hugging Linksano tight for a moment before letting go and gathering his clothes. “Don’t forget about that next time you promised me.”

“Like I could forget after that,” Linksano murmured. “It’s been - a long time.”

Shimmying back into his jeans, Linkara suggested, “Maybe you’d be a slightly less mad scientist if you were getting laid regularly.” He glanced away, then ducked his head as he picked up his shirts. “I, um, I think I could make time for that.”

“That might be nice,” Linksano agreed. “In the meantime, though, I haven’t come that hard in ages, and I think I might need a nap.”

“Jurassic ages?” Linkara asked innocently. Linksano threw a pillow at him as he ducked for his hat, both of them laughing.


End file.
